Today's post is a break from the usual schedule as we play host to a guest review. Jacqui (aka @JacquiWine on Twitter) has been a great supporter of January in Japan, and even though she doesn't have a blog, she wanted to share her thoughts on one of her reads - so I generously offered to hand the blog over to her for a day. Jacqui's choice was Hiromi Kawakami's Strange Weather in Tokyo (previously released in the US under the alternative title of The Briefcase). Over to you, Jacqui :)
*****
Sensei, I whispered.
Sensei, I can’t find my way home.
But Sensei wasn’t here. I
wondered where he was, on a night like this. It made me realise that I had
never telephoned Sensei. We always met by chance, then we’d happen to go for a
walk together. Or I would show up at his house, and we’d end up drinking
together. Sometimes a month would go by without seeing or speaking to each
other. In the past, if I didn’t hear from a boyfriend or if we didn’t have a
date for a month, I’d be seized with worry. I’d wonder if, during that time
he’s completely vanished from my life, or become a stranger to me.
Sensei and I didn’t see
each other very often. It stands to reason since we weren’t a couple. Yet even
when we were apart, Sensei never seemed far away. Sensei would always be
Sensei. On a night like this, I knew he was out there somewhere.
p.59 (Portobello Books, 2013)
Strange Weather in Tokyo (translated by Allison Markin Powell) is the story of Tsukiko, a woman in her
late thirties, who re-encounters one of her old high-school teachers (‘Sensei’,
a man thirty years or so her senior) in a sake bar. They meet by chance one
evening, and over the course of the following months a connection develops as
they seek solace in food, beer and sake.
Their relationship feels quite unstructured; they rarely make
arrangements to reconnect, and weeks can pass before their visits to the sake
bar coincide. They are both essentially quite solitary individuals, but there’s
a sense that they gain some comfort from these encounters.
The story is told through the eyes of Tsukiko, and there is an almost
dreamlike, slightly surreal quality to the narrative as it unfolds over the
course of the novel. We follow the couple as their relationship evolves and
deepens; it starts with shared moments in the sake bar, and develops to include
trips to a local market, a mountain hike to collect mushrooms and a cherry
blossom party. There are some wonderfully-observed details in these passages;
nature features as a theme, and we see the changing of the seasons as the months
pass. Another passage features a description of Sensei’s house with its
collection of railway teapots, and this adds to the slightly off-beat tone of
the novel. In a poignant scene, Tsukiko
attempts to peel an apple whole, in one long curly piece (she had impressed a
former boyfriend some years ago by managing to keep an apple skin intact). This
time, however, the apple skin breaks part way round, and Tsukiko bursts into
tears as the broken peel comes to signify her loss. Tsukiko had been very much
in love with this former boyfriend, but she seemed unable to express her
feelings, or demonstrate she cared for him.
I loved the delicate, nuanced quality of the relationship between
Tsukiko and Sensei. There are times when they seem to communicate predominantly
through feelings, using few words, soundlessly conveying deeper emotions and an
intimacy through thoughts and gestures. The unstated, yet deep, nature of their
relationship contrasts somewhat with Tsukiko’s brief flirtation with an old
classmate from school (Kojima) whom she bumps into at the cherry blossom event.
There’s a sense that Tsukiko is only really content and able to ‘settle’ in
some way when she is with Sensei:
Everything felt so far
away. Sensei, Kojima, the moon – they were all so distant from me. I stared out
of the window, watching the streetscape as it rushed by. The taxi hurtled
through the night-time city. Sensei! I forced out a cry. My voice was
immediately drowned out by the sound of the car’s engine. I could see many
cherry trees in bloom as we sped through the streets. The trees, some young and
some many years old, were heavy with blossom in the night air. Sensei, I called
out again, but of course no one could hear me. The taxi carried me along,
speeding through the city night. (p.92)
I found this to be a beautifully-written and moving novel, expertly
and sensitively translated by Allison Markin Powell. I think it will stay with
me for some time; the ending in particular brings real emotional weight to the
story of Tsukiko and Sensei’s relationship. I read this last year and revisited
it this month for Tony Malone’s focus on Japanese literature (January in Japan)
and can recommend it to anyone interested in a quietly powerful book about
loneliness, connections and the uncertain nature of relationships.
*****
Thanks, Jacqui :) This was our readalong choice last year, and as I recall, most people enjoyed its understated nature. But what do you think? Was this one for you, or was it a little slow for your tastes? And what's your take on the change of title (and cover...)? As always, let us know in the comments - we'd love to hear your thoughts :)
A couple of years ago, our group read choice was Hiromi Kawakami's The Briefcase (later released in the UK as Strange Weather in Tokyo), and I've gone back to Kawakami for one of my choices for 2015. This time it's her novel Manazuru - even if the weather's cold, it should make for a nice trip to the Japanese coast :)
